


the one wherein Alec and Magnus travel to that alternate universe

by villiageidiot



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alternate Universe - This World Inverted (Shadowhunters TV), Crack Treated Seriously, Dimension Travel, M/M, Salty Alec Lightwood, magnus bane - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villiageidiot/pseuds/villiageidiot
Summary: Alec Lightwood is staring at himself. And he’s wearing a lilac shirt.No, wait, he’s not staring at himself, not exactly; it’s more like he’s staring at someone with Alec’s face. Nothing about this man is Alec – not the hair, the way he sits, the look on his face, that inexplicable lilac shirt, those pants – oh God, he’s wearingkhaki pants, what the hell.
Relationships: Alternate Magnus Bane/Alternate Alec Lightwood (Shadowhunters: This World Inverted), Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 15
Kudos: 189





	the one wherein Alec and Magnus travel to that alternate universe

Alec Lightwood is staring at some sort of faceless, not-quite-faerie in the middle of the Wander Woods, Magnus to his right and the Seelie Queen to his left. There’s an unfamiliar light and a feeling of being thrown through a portal, but distinctly _not_ a portal, and –

*

Alec Lightwood is staring at himself. And he’s wearing a lilac shirt.

No, wait, he’s not staring at himself, not exactly; it’s more like he’s staring at someone with Alec’s face. Nothing about this man is Alec – not the hair, the way he sits, the look on his face, that inexplicable lilac shirt, those pants – oh God, he’s wearing _khaki pants_ , what the hell.

“Who is – what the hell,” Alec says to no one in particular, and especially not to this man in a purple button-down and khakis.

“Hello,” says the man with Alec’s face. He raises an eyebrow but seems coolly unaffected, and the combination of the two irritates Alec to his core.

He looks around, trying to assess what the hell happened and where the hell he is, but he quickly realizes that Khakis isn’t the one out of place; Alec is. He’s not entirely sure where he is but it’s most definitely not downtown New York. He’s in the parking lot of a small building with a sign advertising _Beer Happy Brewery_. There’s a trailer next to him that smells of sidewalk hot dog vendors with a sign for _The Angry Weiner_ , and another trailer in front of him with _‘Nacho’ Average Fries_ on an oversized taco-shaped sign.

Alec knows he really doesn’t have time to absorb like, _any of this_ , because somewhere nearby there’s a camouflaged not-faerie and, hopefully, his husband.

“A warlock,” Alec says, already frustrated with his lack of control over the situation. “Did you see him?”

“A warlock,” Khakis repeats.

“Yes,” he answers, briskly. “Maybe a faerie without a face?”

The man eyes him, still calm and collected, despite being questioned about something with no face, and says, “I’m Alec.”

It’s not that Alec wasn’t expecting it, because obviously he’s in some warped nightmare where people sit in parking lots eating loaded fries wearing lilac button-downs, but it’s still jarring to hear.

“Great,” Alec replies, because he doesn’t have time for this. “The warlock?”

“I have no idea,” the alternate Alec answers, “because that sounds made up.” He almost looks amused with a smile that says, _This makes complete sense to me but not to you, how amusing._ And Alec is three steps from aiming an arrow at his face.

Alec glances around again, scanning the crowd for Magnus. He doesn’t typically blend into a crowd so he should be easy to spot but there’s nothing. There are people playing board games while taking pictures of their food, and a group setting up cellos and drums on a makeshift stage at the edge of the parking lot, but the patterned satin shirt under a double-breasted jacket is nowhere in sight.

He can feel Khakis Alec watching him and it’s unnerving. He makes eye contact but doesn’t say anything.

“So these conversational skills,” the other Alec starts, “Is it an undervalued skillset where you’re from? Or just a personal choice?”

He doesn’t respond because this man is _wearing a lilac shirt_ and Alec owes him nothing.

“Well, I’m eloquent, apparently,” the other Alec says, dry. He looks calm, unbothered, and it puts Alec on edge.

“Excuse me?” Alec asks.

He cocks his head slightly and gives Alec another amused smile. _Stop doing that to my face,_ Alec thinks.

“Magnus told me I’d – you’d – be different, but I didn’t expect paramilitary and surly.”

And that’s the first valuable thing Khakis Alec has said. “Magnus?” Alec asks. “You’ve seen him?”

His counterpart huffs a laugh and somehow it manages to come off as condescending. “Not your Magnus,” he replies. “My Magnus. He’s a magician.”

Alec raises his eyebrows; he can’t help it. “A magician,” he echoes.

“He has magic,” the alternate Alec clarifies, vague. He still sounds so goddamn calm and collected, and Alec wants to say something biting and sharp.

“That doesn’t make him a magician,” Alec says, irritated. 

He’s had some pretty bad days but this is easily the worst one he’s ever had. And Jace died one time, so.

Khakis Alec shrugs, like that’s supposed to mean something to Alec, but before either of them can say anything, Magnus and another black-haired man come into view from around one of the food trucks, both carrying mugs of what appears to be coffee.

As they come closer, Alec sees that the other man is _the_ _other Magnus_ and almost blanches, but he manages to keep his expression neutral. The other Alec _does_ look visibly affected, though, which annoys Alec all over again. _Seriously, stop doing that to my goddamn face,_ he thinks again. 

The other Magnus, well, Alec can barely comprehend what he’s seeing. This wrong Magnus is wearing a gray cardigan – a fucking _cardigan_ – and his hair is flat and his eyeliner is gone and his smile is mostly wan, and for some inane reason, Alec feels panic well up inside him. What if this had been the Magnus Alec had met? What if this had been his Magnus, the real Magnus? Where would Alec even be right now? 

_Carelessly married, desperately isolated, openly hostile_ – _to name a few,_ Alec answers to himself.

He’s noticeably shaken and just barely manages to tamper it down before Magnus is close enough to make eye contact. Not that it does any good, if Magnus’ concerned look is anything to go by. 

“Alexander?” he asks, carefully.

“What is this, Magnus?” he asks immediately, voice low.

“I believe he called it a vanilla porter,” Magnus answers.

Alec sighs. “Not the drink. What is _this_?” he asks again. “What’s going on?”

“Ah. I believe we’re briefly visiting a parallel universe,” Magnus says.

“This,” Alec says with a measured voice, “is not ‘parallel’ to anything. _This_ is some sick version of reality and we need to leave.”

“We’re working on it,” he says, vaguely gesturing to the version of Magnus that Alec can’t even look at.

“We?” Alec counters. “ _We?_ What even is that?” He waves in the general direction of Magnus’ counterpart.

Magnus gives him a look. “It’s a _who_ , Alexander,” he answers pointedly. “And he’s quite pleasant so let’s make the best of this, shall we?”

Instead of responding, Alec asks, “Why do they all do that to their hair?” Both of the _wrong_ versions have their hair parted and slicked down and it makes no sense. The other Magnus and Alec are so ordinary and it just – it makes no sense. Nothing makes sense.

Alec’s stomach drops suddenly as something horrifying pops into his mind. _Is this version of me friends with Simon?_ , he thinks to himself. For a moment, he’s stricken because he’s fairly confident he knows the answer.

And if he’s friends with Simon here, what else is upside down?

Khakis Alec and Cardigan Magnus are busy whispering and Alec takes a minute to watch them while Magnus assesses their surroundings. The two of them seem comfortable together, that’s for sure, and there’s really no personal bubble between them. But the other version of Alec – he’s practically _predatory_ in the way he watches Magnus and for some reason, it’s almost unsettling. 

“Are they … together?” Alec whispers cautiously. Because how could they be? He and his Magnus are so different from each other and they work so well together. They _fit_. If this Magnus and Alec both wear khakis and put too much gel in their hair, if they easily blend into a sea of mundanes, how could they possibly fit the same way?

But Alec doesn’t even need a response because as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he gets his answer. The alternate Magnus looks over, apparently having heard Alec’s question, and the alternate Alec’s expression shifts immediately. The way he watches Magnus is no longer predatory; it’s softer somehow and… _oh._ Alec knows that look. It’s one of his own default expressions. For the first time, Alec isn’t resentful of the expressive face of his counterpart because he knows from experience that the look on his face when he sees Magnus, well, it’s not something he can help. It’s probably biology; it’s just ingrained into his DNA at this point.

“Yes,” the other Magnus answers, just as his Magnus says, almost to himself, “But not married.”

The other Magnus’ eyes widen. “ _Married_? It’s only been six months.” His voice is calm but Alec can still detect a hint of skepticism.

Alec glances over towards that stupid lilac shirt and catches the other version of himself looking away from Magnus to casually inspect his fingernails. _I don’t do that,_ Alec thinks petulantly, _so stop doing all this weird shit._

The mannerisms, the hair, the slouching, Alec is irritated by every facet of it. But somehow… he understands it. He’s mildly disturbed to realize that he can actually read this strange version of himself.

It’s a foreign feeling because Alec doesn’t understand most people, so it’s difficult to read them. Despite being a Daylighter, Simon is still a mundane for all intents and purposes. Izzy and Jace, he loves them and knows them in a way he doesn’t – _couldn’t_ – know anyone else, but he’s never been able to understand their relationships or decision-making processes or basic life choices. And Magnus – well he doesn’t usually _need_ to read Magnus. Magnus says things like _I’ll do you pro bono_ and _I’d do anything for you_. He says everything he thinks and feels, never asking Alec to guess or wonder. Alec can read him if he needs to, but Magnus rarely makes him try.

This other Alec, though. Yes, he dresses like the worst kind of mundane, his face betrays his emotions, and shit, he’s probably friends with Simon. But Alec can read him and it’s definitely unsettling. He doesn’t want to understand someone who wears a lilac shirt.

Because that look on his counterpart’s face when he stares at Magnus, that’s too relatable. Alec understands that; he’s been familiar with it for as long as he can remember. And that look on this strange version of Alec is clearly saying, _Six months was five months more than I needed._

But Khakis Alec doesn’t seem overly bothered by it, Alec notes. He just seems patient, like he’s fine with waiting for his Magnus to catch up. 

Once again, Alec feels a brief, unnecessary spike of panic at the idea of his Magnus, the real Magnus, not being patient enough to wait for Alec to catch up. He thinks again of that inevitable desperate isolation that would have awaited him had it not been for Magnus’ persistence.

That’s not how his world worked out, though, and there’s no reason to go down that path. Thankfully, Magnus pulls him out of his bizarre emotional spiral. “We need to be quick,” he says, tone suddenly serious.

“Thank you,” Alec sighs. “This place is –”

“Let’s go,” Magnus interrupts, but he’s not talking to Alec; he’s talking to the other Magnus.

Alec blinks. “Uh, what. You’re not seriously bringing them with us.”

“They can see what we can’t,” Magnus says.

At Alec’s skeptical stare, Magnus adds, “She’s cloaked somehow, Alexander, and not of our dimension. We’ll need their help.”

Alec is still confused but he knows they don’t have time to debate. He’s not sure what happens to shadowhunters and warlocks that spend too long in a nightmare reality with nightmare versions of themselves, but he knows it’s probably not great.

*

The next fifteen minutes are like something from a yin fen-induced hallucination, because Alec spends all of those minutes staring at a lilac button-down and listening to his counterpart shamelessly flirt with Cardigan Magnus in every conceivable way. 

“Is the color of the shirt relevant?” Magnus asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“What?”

“It’s just that you’ve mentioned it a few times. Would you be less irritated if he was wearing a different shade?”

Alec frowns because he doesn’t even remember bringing up the shirt out loud. He’s clearly more exhausted than he thought. “I just want to get out of here,” he says. “None of this makes sense.”

Magnus hums to himself. “The flirting bothers you.” It’s not a question.

“That,” Alec responds, raising his eyebrows, “is not flirting. _That_ is sexual harassment.”

Magnus almost smiles. “He doesn’t seem to mind it, Alexander. I think he finds it suave and charming.”

“Charming?” Alec repeats, a little surprised. “You find that over-the-top leering ‘charming’?”

“This universe’s version of me, yes, I think he does.”

Alec shakes his head. Nothing about this world makes sense.

Magnus brushes his hand against Alec’s as they continue to weave through the industrial park behind the brewery. “They’re not us,” he says softly. “Let them be in love in their own way.”

But the more Alec watches them, the more questions he has. Khakis Alec is clearly a confident man, comfortable in his own skin. He carries himself with a sureness that Alec himself struggled with most of his life. He attained that comfort only after a lot of practice, a lot of time, and a persistent warlock he met at a club. So why is this universe’s Alec waiting? If he knew five months ago he was ready to spend the rest of his life with this unrecognizable version of Magnus, then why hasn’t he just like, _asked_?

The number of facial expressions Khakis Alec has is alarmingly high, and that lilac shirt makes Alec nauseous, but the idea that there’s a version of Alec that’s a coward around Magnus chafes more than anything else.

And Cardigan Magnus is clearly in love with his Alec, so what is he so afraid of?

He briefly considers really delving into it but decides against it. If Alec tries to figure out the mechanics of their relationship, they might lead to other questions like, _What does the other Simon bring to our most-likely-best-friends friendship?,_ and maybe, _Why do I get the feeling that this version of me orchestrates parking lot festivals for a living?_

“There!” Cardigan Magnus calls out, pointing to a figure leaning against the side of a building. “It’s – I don’t know what it is but it’s not human!”

Without thinking, Alec’s pulling an arrow out of his quiver and aiming at what looks to be a human but apparently isn’t. He hears, “Wait, you’re always just walking around with a bow and arrow?” from somewhere to his left as he releases the arrow. Alec ignores him as he watches the thing hit the ground, and he desperately hopes that Magnus was right, that these two can see something Alec and Magnus can’t. If he just killed an actual person on bad intel, he’s going to be pissed.

He and Magnus run over as the other two stand back and thankfully, there’s ichor splattered around the heap on the ground. There’s also some sort of faintly-glowing crystal in its lifeless hand.

“Time to head home, Alexander,” Magnus says on an exhale, sounding relieved.

“That’s all we needed?” Alec asks, kneeling next to the body. He’s confused because this is the first he’s hearing of a glowing crystal, but he’ll ask for details once they’re back in Alicante, sitting on the balcony with a drink, a strong _strong_ drink, in hand.

“Yes,” he answers. “Just give me a few moments to work out the spell.” He walks back towards the lawn they just ran across, apparently needing some sort of space.

The other Magnus joins Alec to check out the heap on the ground. “Wow,” he says, frowning, and Alec wonders what it is he sees.

He should really ask Cardigan Magnus what it is he sees but instead, for no discernable reason, Alec turns towards him and inexplicably says, “You don’t – it’s not something to be afraid of.” He glances over Magnus’ shoulder to watch the real Magnus, _his_ Magnus, exchange goodbyes with the other Alec. “Finding someone and knowing so quickly – that’s lucky. We’re lucky.”

Alec stands and doesn’t wait for a response because it’s still awkward and a little unpleasant for him, being this close to a weird paradoxical version of the man he’s so in love with. There are hints of his Magnus buried within everything that’s so _not_ his Magnus. 

As he walks across the lawn and towards the beginnings of what might be a portal, he passes his counterpart. “What are you afraid of?” Alec asks him without stopping. “Just ask him.” He doesn’t wait for a response, partially because being near him is as unpleasant as being near the wrong Magnus, but mostly because he doesn’t want to see that fucking lilac shirt for the rest of his goddamn life.


End file.
